The Duck Pond

This was inspired by a Writing Prompt where you pick three spooky words and write a poem or story based on the words.

I chose Banshee, Corrupted and Creep.

 

Banshee blood

corrupted, cursed and revolting

it’s pooling in a pond where I used to feed  the ducks.

 

Who will cage it?

will anyone  swim in it?

Who will watch it creep towards the shore?

Will anybody grab a bucket, sponge scream out in fear

more likely then not

everyone will  pretend as if it’s not there.

 

Banshee blood

corrupt,  cursed and revolting

I wonder if the Ducks that I used to feed

wished it wasn’t there.

 

The Blessing

From The Danse Macabre Prompt: Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders

We meet another of The Prince’s guests:

I had found a place to get off of my feet

maybe catch a quick bite

and chew the fat with the locals

 who call this  town I wandered into home.

But before I could settle in and settle down for a spell

at the Diner called ” Lorna’s “

the Sheriff walked in and put a bullet between my eyes.

Good thing it wasn’t silver.

Good thing indeed.

Trick Or Treat? That Is The Question

From The Red Death Project– meet one of Prospero’s Guests.

She’s getting into the Halloween Spirit of things.

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

If you knock on my door on Halloween

I promise not try to act scary.

Not that I can do that anyway because I wear glasses and I like to wear sweatshirts with dogs on them. Who would I be fooling? Not you, that’s for certain.

If you knock on my door on Halloween

I promise to only hand out the tastiest chocolates shaped like severed heads and bloody  fingers and  eyeballs with a sweet mushie surprise inside and the crunchiest Candied Sugar Bones you have ever popped into your mouth and ground  between your teeth.

My candies wrapped in orange and black tinfoil and I make them myself.

I’m a very skilled candy maker.

If you knock on my door on Halloween

I promise I will  answer the door the minute you knock

I’ll let you take as much candy as you want

and after you’re done and walking away

I promise that  when I let my monsters chase you down the walkway- my werewolf, I call him Darwin, will probably get to you first-

cross my heart and hope to die- well- not me obviously-but I digress

I promise to not eat your share of candy, except for maybe the Crunchy Sugar Bones.

Those are my favorites.

If you knock on my door on Halloween

I can promise you this-all kidding aside, your Halloween Night  will never end.

Nightjars

Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders  I ask and answer the question:

What Would The Red Death Look Like?

.

Do you know what I saw last night?

Do you know what I saw when I looked out my bedroom window

just after midnight when the night sky was full of darkness and the air heavy with cries of Nightjars and bats singing out to their prey?

 

Do you know what I saw

when I looked out my window and a terrible creature

with a broken face and a missing eye screamed at me from it’s nightmare

 

I saw my reflection in my window.

That’s what I saw.

From A Thousand Cemeteries

From The Danse Macabre Prompt  Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders

Brainstormed and thought about how Red Death would enter Prince Prospero’s fortress-this is how I saw it:

It whispered in her ear

it was a shadow in the corner of his eye

it made their dog howl in despair at the stars

it trapped their cat in the window

and asked them as they stood there frozen in fear

with a voice as smooth and cold as bitter fog from a thousand cemeteries

” I’m here, won’t you welcome me in? “

It said to one and all

Politely.

 

Nothing was there

they insisted that night.

There nothing to see, nothing to hear

especially nothing to feel

nothing was there except a thin red veil

that covered the face of the Moon.

 

The Invitation

From Danse Macabre :   Standing on a Literary Legend’s Shoulders The Red Death Project-

Photo A.M. Moscoso

The Masque has been hanging in my attic all of my life- it was there when my Parents owned my house and it was there when my Great Grandparents had the house built in 1901.

Nobody knows where it came from or who hung it or why nobody ever took it down.

It seemed better, wiser, to just leave it alone to the darkness and the dust – because sometimes it sounded like someone was up there with it and during those times we made sure the attic door was locked.

“There’s nothing up there,” we would say as we turned the skeleton key and backed slowly away from that door and hurried down the hall to the safety of the well lit living room.

There is nothing in that huge dark room that hangs over heads we  told ourselves- nothing except for that Masque, and it’s occasional visitor.

Three days ago I started to hear music.

I’m not ashamed to admit- the music worries me to the point of distraction and I’m having trouble sleeping at night and it’s almost impossible to wake up in the morning.

I think that slightly off key tune that howls like the wind just before the storm hits is an invitation  and I am sure that any day now, the RSVP’s will start to arrive